


Before the (more than a) Team Jobs

by Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics), Leverage, Vertigo (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments, before season one, for our Leverage team... set against greater DCU/Vertigo Comics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the (more than a) Team Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> Still in Season One on Leverage, though I do know some points from later canon. DCU is JLI/early Birds of Prey era-ish.

"Ehh, there you are, Nate, old chum," came the voice from the darkest shadow of the hotel room. If Nate had been any less pissed off over being _that close_ to retrieving the stolen Joshua Johnson portrait, he might have just turned around and walked back out. As it was, that would have been the smartest thing to do. He even knew it as the cherry of the inevitable cigarette lit up the features of one John Constantine.

"Last I remember, we weren't 'chums'. You let me bait some… beings of questionable origin and homicidal intentions away from your con job," Nate said dryly.

"Got 'em banished 'fore they did you real harm, bloke, and you know it," the man said, confirming Nate's suspicions that those things in Liverpool really hadn't been human. "I'm actually giving you the grace of asking this time," John continued.

No, really, Nate knew he should walk out. But if he played this right… he'd get the Johnson back anyway. Constantine had resources that defied even Nate's abilities to understand. "I've got a price," Nate finally answered as he went to pour two tumblers of bourbon.

"That's the spirit, Nate; gouge the mark!"

* * *

Whips really weren't Sophie's preferred scene, but she might just have to make an exception for the woman in the skintight… catsuit.

Literally.

"Meow," she said as she tried to determine the best way to get free of the whip around her waist, tangling her from her getaway. Intriguing and tantalizing that the woman had gotten it around her without cutting at all.

"My line, and you have something of mine," the whip-wielder said in a sultry voice.

Sophie backpedaled away from half a dozen slips she might have thrown at that point, and went with seductively straight-forward. "We could arrange an exchange of gifts, perhaps, to remedy this… mismanagement of item placement?" she suggested. It got the cat-woman to laugh, head back and throat stretched in that carefree way that Sophie found entirely too intoxicating.

When was she going to learn to curb her libido on these little tricks?

"Oh I think I like your style, Miss Silver. Sadly for you, I am more than passingly acquainted with the St. Cloud family… and Silver in particular." There was a jerk of the whip, and Sophie found herself free. "I might, though, be willing to discuss it, and my little toy, over wine."

The blatant invitation matching her own was too much to resist for Sophie.

* * *

Move, move, strike, dodge.

Quick. No thought. Just his objective, his survival, and a few interruptions by the opponents forgetting the moves to the dance.

He'd counted seven as he went into the room.

He counted the seventh as a knuckle strike against an already broken nose made it easy to introduce his boot to the man's head.

Seven bodies on the floor, and he could turn, could go finish this with…

"Nice work, kid. Not sure I appreciate the buyer calling in a distraction while I worked, but good job." 

This was Threat, dressed in blue and orange, head to toe. Flashy kind of thing, but tricked out like a walking armory. Grenades, pistol, staff, sword, knife, ammo… all on a form that towered over most men and had a name.

Deathstroke the Terminator was a little outside Spencer's usual circles. 

"We gonna do this?" Spencer asked, keeping his voice even, refusing the fear with resignation instead.

"Not today. Job's done." The mercenary pushed off the wall to leave. "I'll be keeping my eye on you, Kid."

Eliot Spencer just took it as one small win and left. If Terminator said it was done… there was not much chance anything was left for him. Checking might just piss off the old-timer and get Eliot dead. That was not currently on the options he was entertaining.

* * *

The blonde was absolutely stacked and drop-dead gorgeous. Upswept hairdo, high-fashion dress that left her arms bare to the elbows where opera gloves took over, slit skirt, all in that damned impeccable manner Hardison usually found so fake, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off of her. 

He dropped his eyes back to his cell phone, trying to keep an eye on his progress in breaking the encryption upstairs. He was nervous enough, being on site, being in so-called nice clothes just to blend in with the rich yuppie club. Seeing the progress had stalled completely in his look away made him scowl, glancing around… and the blonde was right there.

"Sweetheart, you really don't want to finish this job, but if you talk sweet to me, my partner might just let you know the details," the blonde murmured in his ear, completely in his space.

Hardison's mouth went dry as he reached for a smooth line, but the flash of a green mask across his phone's screen broke the attempt. "Aww, hell, you're the Canary," he said softly, pocketing his phone and sliding his arm around her waist with a fake smile, like he knew her well.

She didn't step out of it, subtly guiding him away from the corner, closer to an emergency door. "Oracle said you were smart. Now be smart enough to go, before things explode. We'll be in touch."

Well, if someone had to be better than him at his game, Hardison could cope with it being Oracle. Nor did he doubt the Black Canary's word. He just wondered if she'd come in person and give him a chance to be his charming self.

* * *

She had planned for the security. She had even planned for one of the superheroes. She just hadn't expected his boyfriend to be there that night. Or for the damned robot to recover from spray paint so fast. It had worked on Decepticons, right?

All Parker knew right now was that the pretty one in the bright yellow was kind of pissed at her for stealing his latest investment capital. And the one in blue was siding kind of heavily with him.

It was more than time to make her exit before the hover-bot swooped in and found her line.

"Thanks for the invite; throw up a new billboard next time you fund raise!" she could not help but throw out to the bright one before she leaped out and flew in the best way possible.

"She peter-panned!" Parker heard as the rush of air intensified and blotted out the Totally Gay Duo of Booster Gold and Blue Beetle. Maybe she'd steal a card and send it to them, congratulating them on being such a happy couple.


End file.
